


A New Life Through Golden Eyes

by WTF_fandoms



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alpha Scott, Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Bottom Stiles, Death, Depression, F/M, Hidden Feelings, Kira doesn't exist, M/M, Self Harm, Smut, Stiles and Malia never dated, Top Derek, Werewolf Pack, car crash, handjobs, past self harm, werewolf Stiles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2018-05-09 03:44:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5524181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WTF_fandoms/pseuds/WTF_fandoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Scott! Scott, please pick up! Scott, it's Stiles. He's- he's really hurt. Like, really, really hurt." Malia's voice was weary and cracking. She had let a few sobs go within the message. </p>
<p>"Scott, there's only one option. The only good thing is that it's a full moon-" Malia broke into another fit of sobs. </p>
<p>"Just get here, okay? He's not conscious, but I think he'd want you to do it."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Storm

Scott was woken by a clash of thunder, followed closely by a strike of lighting. Scott bolted up in bed, his room illuminated by the storm. The thunder was consistent, like the drumming of a death march. 

Scott blearily rubbed his eyes and reached over to turn on his lamp. That when he realized the undying vibration of his phone. He scrunched his eyebrows and picked up the obnoxious buzzer.

If was filled with hundreds of text messages and a few phone calls, but Scott paid them no attention. He focused on a particular phone call, one from Malia. Malia never called him. Sure, she was in his pack but she recently got the hang of texting and now it's the only thing she'll do.

Scott pressed play and brought the phone up to his ear.

"Scott! Scott, please pick up! Scott, it's Stiles. He's- he's really hurt. Like, really, really hurt." Malia's voice was weary and cracking. She had let a few sobs go within the message. Wind and thunder battled against her voice but she still remained clear. Scott swore he could hear something burning. 

Scott jumped out of bed and started pulling on his clothes, the message still playing.

"Scott, there's only one option. The only good thing is that it's a full moon-" Malia broke into another fit of sobs. 

Scott stopped moving for just a moment, before jumping into super speed. Scoot threw on some pants and his jacket, forgetting socks and a shirt. He threw on his boots and raced to his bike. He brought the phone along, still listening to the message.

"Just get here, okay? He's not conscious, but I think he'd want you to do it. We're on the highway, the one you were near when you got bitten." The message ended with a mourn full beep. At that point, Scott was already on his bike. He cared enough to apply his helmet, but it became difficult with all the rain.

"Please be okay, Stiles." Scott muttered. He pushed his motorbike as fast as it could go, safety and laws out the window. He swerved around cars, cut across yards, anything that would get him to Stiles faster.

••••••••••

Scott was greeting with the sight of a car crash. Stiles's jeep was totalled, although not on fire. The other car had been thrown into the forest and was emitting a glow of flames. It wasn't enough to lit the forest and the storm was slowly putting it out. What worried Scott was the people in the middle of the road.

First was Malia, standing with her phone to her ear. Scott could see her free fist was clenched, something she does when stress. 

On the ground was Lydia, resting so her thighs and forelegs were pressed together. There seemed to be a head in her lap and Lydia was holding a hand, belonging to said head's body. 

Stiles body was limp and unresponsive, as far as Scott could see. His view was blocked by debris and the girls bodies.

Scott leaped of his bike and ran towards Stiles. Malia turned and saw him, her features shaping into ones of warning, before Scott shoved her out of the way. 

He wasn't fast enough.

Stiles' right hand was encased with Lydia's but his left was clutched in Derek's grip. Derek dropped the arm when Scott showed, but not before Scott saw what had happened.

Stiles arm, all freckles, and paleness, was now adorned with a bite. An Alphas bite.

Derek's eyes were still red and he was caressing Stiles face, hoping to get a response. A tear made a tiny track down Derek's face, the desperation clear in his eyes.

A moment passed, the only noise belonging the storm and the flames. Several more, still no response for Stiles. Lydia started to sob, heart wrenching, tear jerking sobs. Malia started and soft mumble of "no no no no no no." 

What little hope that had been left in Derek's eyes was extinguished. His face became one of shock, some hidden feelings coming to light.

And Scott, well, Scott felt numb. He felt as if his soul had been snuffed out, as if Scott had been the one to die. He fell to his knees, the waging of his best friend loss had become too much.

All of the sudden, the storm stopped. The flames stopped flickering and extinguished. Stiles head moved so it was facing upwards, to the full moon directly over his head. 

Stiles opened his eyes. His brown eyes, ones that where so much a part of him, were replaced with swirling gold ones.


	2. Medical Madness

Scott felt that the dull beep of the heart monitor would slowly drive him insane. Stiles laid in the hospital bed, the only sign of life being the steady rise and fall of his chest and the god damned heart monitor. 

It had been two days since the accident, since Stiles got bitten. Scott had stayed beside Stiles the entire time. Lydia had spent most of the time with Scott, but she had to leave because of a family emergency. Malia had been in and out, while Derek hadn't shown his face since the crash. Since he bit Stiles.

Scott wanted to throw Derek from a twenty story building. Derek had no right to bite Stiles. If Derek had been more patient, or at least waited for one more second, Scott would have been the one to give Stiles the bite.

Scott glanced over at the unconscious Stiles. They knew the bite had worked because his skin healed, but the real damage wasn't physical. 

The doctors said that there was nothing wrong with Stiles, they had no idea why he wouldn't wake up. Scott thought that maybe if they had taken him straight to the hospital, instead of trying to find a werewolf Doctor, then maybe Stiles would be fine. 

"Scotty, I'm fine." A broken and raspy voice called out. Scott looked over at Stiles and saw Stiles looking back.

"Don't move, I'll get a nurse!" Scott turned to leave, but Stiles grabbed his wrist.

"Don't. It'll take too much time to explain why my wounds have suddenly healed. And I don't have time for that." Stiles rolled out of bed and walked over to some clothes set out for him. 

"Wait, where are you going?" Scott stepped towards him and placed a hand on Stiles' shoulder. Stiles shrugged him off and reached down to put on his shoes.

"Listen, Stiles, I know how you're feeling. I've gone through this as well. And right now you looking for Derek, for the Alpha who bit you. But you don't have to go to him. I'm here, you can be part of my pack." During Scott's speech, he placed his hands on Stiles' shoulders.

Stiles looked up, his face filled with disgust. He threw Scott's arms off him and stormed out the door, leaving Scott to wonder what he did wrong.


	3. The Heart Wants....

Stiles stormed down the sidewalk, the night air blowing his hair around. He didn't know why he had gotten so pissed at Scott for mentioning that Stiles would join his pack. I mean, of course, they had had a few conversations over the years about Stiles getting the bite, but it was never supposed to happen like this! In those plans, it was perceived that Stiles would join Scott's pack but now....... Now Stiles wasn't sure how he felt.

He kept walking, unfazed by the cold night air. Normally, he would look like a smurf from it being so cold, but hey, he's a werewolf now. Things are bound to be different. 

Stiles stuffed his hands in his pockets, not because they were cold, it was more of a comfort thing. His phone was in there and every so often it would buzz, meaning Stiles had gotten a text message. He didn't pull out his phone, not once. Not to see who the texts were from or even to check the time. But he sure as hell wanted to.

Stiles want to yank out his phone and tell all the texters to shut the hell up and fuck off. He wanted to see what time it was, how long he had been walking. Well, he couldn't exactly see how long he had been walking because the last time he has seen a clock was right before his jeep crashed.

Oh god, his jeep crashed! His previous jeep. He has had that vehicle for so long, it had been with him through this entire supernatural mess. No matter what happened to his jeep, he always ended up getting it fixed. But now? Now it was totaled, unusable, completely and totally broken. Stiles didn't have the cash to fix it this time around. He jeep was gone for good.

A droplet of something landed on Stiles' hand. He stops walking and glanced down to see water, slide off the back of his hand. Huh, he thought, It must be raining.

Stiles looked up and was faced with a midnight sky and shiny stars, looking so small from where he was. But Stiles didn't see a single cloud. He cautiously brought his hand up to his cheek. His fingers met moister and Stiles knew that the "water" was, in fact, his tears.

Stiles crumpled to the ground, sobbing. The weight of this situation had become too much for him. His jeep was totaled. Scott was being an insensitive douchebag. He's dad wasn't had the hospital when he woke up. Hell, there was no mention of his dad. 

Maybe Stiles's dad finally realized what a fuck up Stiles was. Maybe he knew about the bite and now wanted nothing to do with Stiles. Maybe he's glad to get rid of his hyperactive spaz of a son. Maybe his dad wished he had died.

Deep down, Stiles knew those things weren't true. But his mood was so awful, so self-hating that he couldn't get those thoughts out of his head.

Maybe Lydia secretly hated me all this time, Stiles thought. Maybe Scott just wanted me in his pack because he felt sorry for Stiles, that Scott was only his friend because of pity. Maybe Malia wished that he died in the accident. Stiles had almost killed her, he had been the one driving. 

Maybe Derek wanted him dead. He wasn't at the hospital or anything. Maybe Derek had hoped the bite would kill him, maybe he only bit Stiles because Scott was a dangerous enemy. 

At that point, it seemed as if Stiles went on autopilot, like he wasn't really in control of his movements. He stood up, his cheeks stained with tear tracks. 

He wasn't really thinking of what he was doing. Stiles' head was silent, all the little voices had finally shut up. He had one, singular thought and that was to step into the road. Maybe a car was coming. Maybe the car would hit him. Maybe he'd die. 

Stiles moved his right leg forward and planted his foot on the road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got a motivating comment that changed the storyline slightly. :)


	4. What it Wants

Stiles hadn't even moved his other leg when he was yanked back from the road and into someone's arms. The "someone" moved back until Stiles was two meters away from the road.

Stiles noticed the type of hold he was in. It wasn't a proper hold, nor was it the hold of a stranger who saved another strangers life. This hold was more.... intimate, more personal. His "saviour" had their left arm at the bottom of Stiles's rib cage and their right arm crossing from the bottom of his rib cage to about his collarbone. Who-every was holding Stiles clearly cared about him. But that didn't stop him from fighting them.

"GET OFF OF ME!" Stiles yelled, trying to shove off his "saviours" arms. He kicked backwards and made contacted with his "saviours" leg. They grunted but didn't let go. Instead, they pulled Stiles against their chest.

From the lack of breast and the broad shoulders, Stiles assumed his "saviour" to be a man. Stiles continued to struggle until his "saviour" turned Stiles around.

Stiles looked up and into the warm brown eyes of Derek Hale.

••••••••••••••

"How did you find me?!" Stiles asked, a few tears sliding down his face. Derek crinkled his eyebrows and looked sympathetic, as well as worried.

"Stiles, we're in front of my apartment building." Stiles looked over Derek's shoulder and saw that Derek was telling the truth. Why hadn't Stiles noticed that he had stopped walking in front of Derek's apartment building? That Stiles had almost- I don't know, killed himself in front of Derek's apartment? Had Stiles been heading here in the first place or was this just a coincidence? Stiles had so many questions running through his head that he didn't know what to do with them.

Derek read Stiles's expression and sensed his mood. He let go of Stiles's shoulders and opened his arms, feeling that Stiles might want a hug. He clearly didn't and Stiles all but ran into Derek's arms. When there, he started bawling. Stiles's tightened his arms around Derek and Barrie's his head in Derek's chest.

"It's going to be okay." Derek soothed Stiles. He started rubbing Stiles back, doing all the things that help prevent or stop a panic attack. Derek had the feeling that Stiles might be moving into the hysterical territory and a panic attack might come with the movement.

••••••••••••••••

After a while, Stiles sobbing turned into crying, which then turned into sniffling. Derek decided it would be good to bring Stiles's inside, they had been getting some strange looks from car drivers as they passed by. 

"Stiles, we have to go inside now, okay?" Derek asked softly. Stiles nodded and Derek turned to lead him inside, his arm wrapped around Stiles.

They reached Derek's apartment and he leads Stiles inside, directly to the couch. He sat Stiles down on it and ran to grab some blankets and a pillow. He gladly would have given Stiles his bed but due to and earlier "predicament", the bed was out of order. 

Derek fetched the pillow and blankets and returned to Stiles, who looked like he was almost asleep. Derek placed the pillow down and tried to move Stiles so he was lying down, but Stiles wasn't having any of that.

"No, no, NO!" Stiles pushed away from the pillow and he would have fallen off the couch if Derek hadn't caught him. Derek moved to sitting on the couch, keeping Stiles in his arms the entire time.

"Stiles-" 

"I don't want to be alone." Stiles mumbled, the tiredness winning over. "I can't be alone right now."

"Do you want me to stay with you?" Stiles nodded before speaking up again.

"I want to stay in your arms. I feel.......safe." Derek moved back until he was lying on the pillow. Stiles reposition himself so he was on Derek's left side, in between Derek and the back of the couch, before falling asleep. Derek smiled fondly when he saw Stiles sleeping face, but the whole mess of the evening was still going through his head.

•••••••••••••••

An hour had passed and Derek was sure that Stiles was deeply asleep. He carefully moved Stiles off of him and moved off the couch. Derek walked over to the door and pulled out his phone. He scrolled through the phone numbers, stopping when he found the number. He pressed "Dial" and moved the phone up to his ear. The phone rang once before the other side picked up.

"Don't worry," Derek started. "I've got him, he's with me. But we might have a bit of a problem."


	5. All Actions Have Consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Past self harm brief mention, so trigger warning.

"Stiles."

No response.

"Stiles."

Stiles felt his shoulders being shaken, but it wasn't enough to wake him up.

"Stiles." More shaking. The voice remained calm and soft, although a small voice in Stiles's head told him that this voice could become urgent. The voice was often let urgent, or angry. Stiles recognized the voice, but he was so lost in dreamland, he couldn't place it.

"STILES!" Stiles awoke, yanked out of his dream of skeleton skinny hands and blackened eyes. Stiles barely woke up, Dreamland wasn't quite ready to loses its hold on him. Stiles looked up and saw the soft eyes of his father. He' wearing a soft smile, but weariness was written all over his face.

"Five more minutes...." Stiles mumbled before turning away from his father. He felt his face press into a cushion. Wait, this didn't feel like the fabric of his pillowcase, or that of any pillowcase. Stiles frowned and moved his hand over the "pillow." First of all, the texture was all wrong. And since when the hell did his pillow have buttons?! And secondly, this was too big to be his pillow. Stiles opened his eyes and was faced with the brown leather fabric of a couch. Stiles didn't have a leather couch. Neither did Scott.

While racking his brain for memories of a brown leather couch, Stiles finally realized and comprehended what had happened last night, as well as the few days before it.

Oh god. I'm lying on Derek's couch, in Derek's apartment. And my dad is here, not sure if that makes this situation better or worse.

Stiles slowly rolled around and peeked out from beneath his eyelashes. The Sheriff was crouching beside the couch, a soft smile on his face and kindness in his eyes. Over his father's right shoulder, Stiles could see Derek leaning against a pole. Derek was looking down at the floor, not even glancing at his couch. His hands were tucked in his pockets and his head was bowed.

Scott stood a few feet behind the Sheriff, his arms crossed and his emotions masked. His eyes looked all around the room, occasionally glaring as Stiles. He was behaving like a child, one that was told he could have a cookie. Not that Stiles was a cookie, more that because Stiles didn't really agree with Scott's decision to have Stiles be part of Scott's pack. Stiles didn't even say no. He just didn't know what to do.

Part of Stiles felt loyal to Derek. After all, he was the one who bit Stiles. The was something else to Stiles and Derek's relationship, but Stiles's couldn't place what it was right now.

But Scott was his best friend. They have been through so much together, but lately, Scott and Stiles's friendship has been...... strained. 

"Stiles," His father spoke up, pulling Stiles's attention to him. "You wake up in the hospital, your first time conscious after getting into a car accident two days before. And your first decision is to leave without telling the hospital staff." Stiles avoided eye contact with his father. Things were going to be different now that he was a werewolf, he might not take orders from his father anymore. 

"And then I get a phone call in the middle of the night, Derek saying you showed up in front of his apartment building and were walking into the street with cars coming! Are you trying to get yourself killed?!" Stiles again said nothing. During his father's speech, he had changed positions so now he was sitting instead of lying down. He placed his right arm on the couch arm rest and was resting his head on his head. When he heard about the phone call, he sent Derek a withering glare. Derek, who had been looking at the father and son, quickly went back to staring at the floor.

"Stiles." The Sheriff placed a hand on Stiles's left forearm. "If you're relapsing again, we can deal with it." The two glanced down at the scars coating Stiles's left arm. The contrasted greatly against his pale skin. Stiles tugged down his shirt sleeve to conceal them.

"If it's happening again, we can send you back to Doctor-"

"I'm FINE!" Stiles shouted. His hands jerked out, an expulsion of his nervous energy. "I'm completely okay!" Everyone looked up in surprise at his outburst. Unfortunately for Stiles, the Sheriff took this as confirmation of Stiles resurfacing issues.

"Have you been taking your medication? Have you been going to your therapy-" Stiles bolted up.

"I'm 18, okay? Legally an adult. I can take care of myself!" Stiles grabbed his jacket and stormed out of the apartment, ignoring the voices asking him to come back.


End file.
